Page 151 of Hell Breaks Loose

“I don’t know. But I need it.”

It’s Sing’s turn to solemnly nod.

Walking up the stairs of the old yet well-maintained apartments, I look back once at Sing. He nods once, reassuringly, pointing my way to the last entrance at the end of the second floor of the front walkway-facing doors, he stops shy a few feet, holding up his hand.

“There are no other tenants. I have someone check on her twice a day,” he explains. “I’ll be here, in the doorway, until she can digest what is going on. If she’s well enough, I’ll leave you two to talk.”

The way he handles me, delegating the process, would normally make me annoyed. Raise my hackles. But the reason behind it and the absolute sincerity with which he says it all stills my retort.

And shows me more about who Sing is than anything I’ve witnessed so far.

“Thank you for this.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“No.” I reach out, taking his hand without thinking. He lets me. “For everything. You risked so much to stay, to become my bodyguard, when you had no idea what would come of it.”

Sing’s eyes widen slightly. “How did you…”

“I just guessed. You were going to disappear too, weren’t you?”

His slow nod humbles me.

“I could never have forgiven myself if I let Cynthia’s daughter suffer the same fate she barely survived. Then I actually got to know you…”

“And I totally ruined it.” I smirk.

“Almost ruined it.” He winks, a hint of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Good gravy, I can see why Ora and Alaya are crushing so hard.

A deep breath and a knock later, the door opens.

Don’t panic. Don’t cry.

“You’re alive,” the woman in the doorway whispers, her eyes wide. She’s barely recognizable. Not because she’s changed in appearance. Because I’ve changed.

Because she’s not the person I left almost nine years ago now.

A thinness that she never had shrinks her some. She’s obviously older. Her hair, however, is long, carefully tended. Not the permed and sprayed helmet that Marco always demanded.

It’s soft.

Luxurious.

One of the few things I remember about her from when her and Dad were together.

“That’s my line, Mom.” I sniff, surprised at the humor I am able to feel. And the emotion welling up within me.

Despite the hard years…

She’s beautiful. And a part of me wants to be mad about that. The other part wants to… I don’t even know.

“Should I come in?”

“Please. I’m so sorry. When Sing mentioned you were coming, I?—”

“Panicked?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Hemma.”

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